


intricacies of love and carefully woven plaits

by pettytooru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/F, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Time Skip, Rule 63, oh the inherent romanticism of plaiting your sleeping lover's hair, the author is a touch starved lesbian and it shows, theyre in love your honor, yes feelings realization even though theyre already dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29299638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettytooru/pseuds/pettytooru
Summary: Kiyoomi always did look ethereal in the glow of the night, as if she belonged up there alongside the stars.Witching hour provides a window of opportunity. Atsumu takes it to think about the woman she loves.alternatively titled :'entangled here (where i belong)'
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	intricacies of love and carefully woven plaits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [stray italian greyhound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008200) by [kronotriga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronotriga/pseuds/kronotriga). 



> This was originally just a self-indulgent clutter that sat in my google docs for a couple weeks, but then I read the series _'she keeps me warm' _by kronotriga and... Yeah. I ended up fully fleshing it out in a moment of weakness.  
>  _  
>  _I wrote this whilst listening to _'Find Me Here' _from Hayley Williams' new album on repeat, and whilst this isn't a song fic it works well alongside it <3___  
> _  
>  _  
>  _I hope you enjoy, I highly recommend you go read the works that inspired me to finish this !!!__  
> __

_“You are, I think, an evening star,_  
_the fairest of all the stars.”_  
― Sappho

* * *

Witching hour was unseen by many; passing by without a word as people lay tucked under their covers, only the stars watching over them.

For some, however, witching hour presented a window of opportunity. Timeless, quiet, and comforting. 

It allowed Atsumu to forget about a world outside of the stillness of her bedsheets. Nothing seemed to matter except the sound of steady breathing as her sleeping lover’s chest rose and fell.

The moon was almost full, sitting in the sky as if it’s sole purpose was to illuminate the inside of Atsumu’s quaint apartment: a modest two bedroom nestled in the outskirts of Osaka. At this time of night, the white glow was unobscured by the curtains that had been haphazardly thrown half-shut just hours prior. 

Cold, soft light trickled across the sheets, framing the constellation of moles across Kiyoomi’s broad shoulders and muscular back. It ignited the soft, thick hair that covered her bare arms; strands of silver stemming from pale skin. The dark haired girl had rolled away from Atsumu soon after falling asleep, claiming the entirety of the right hand side of the bed, as always.

Having a bundle of energy coursing through her legs following a particularly uneventful day, Atsumu found herself sitting up late through the night. She was leaning against the wall beside the window, careful not to block any of the rays that were giving her such a clear view of the woman in front of her.

Kiyoomi always did look ethereal in the glow of the night, as if she belonged up there alongside the stars.

Witching hour was slowly becoming Atsumu’s favourite time of day. It was very closely followed by the Black Jackals afternoon practices - body warmed up and form at its peak, her carefully refined skillset shining for the whole team to see. 

The electricity that seemed to flow through her fingers, transferring to the ball before it was slammed over the net ( _perfect!_ ) rivalled that which ran through her heart as she brushed her hands through her lover's hair.

No matter how hard she tried, and tried she did, Atsumu couldn’t seem to muster up an ounce of anger at the dark curls that cloaked the majority of her pillow as Kiyoomi slept. 

Even as she lay there each night, buried in a heap of earthy-smelling ( _courtesy of the macadamia hair mask Omi loves so much_ ) frizz, all she seemed to feel was an overwhelming pressure in her chest. 

One that didn’t seem to settle no matter how tired she became.

Atsumu had always worn her heart on her sleeve, but that didn’t make bundling her soul into her arms and giving it away any less terrifying.

“‘Tsumu.” Her hand froze. Atsumu felt as if she had been caught in an act of treason, one finger dragging through a particularly perfect ringlet.

“You awake under there, Omi-omi?” 

“What’re you doing?” She mumbled, words slurred with exhaustion, not even bothering to roll over to look at her girlfriend.

“Uhhh-” Atsumu stuttered, snatching her hand away in embarrassment. She counted herself lucky that the heat in her cheeks was going unnoticed by the other woman.

“Don’t stop.” Omi whined, voice deep and slightly scratchy from a lack of use.

“ _What_?” 

She was physically winded for a moment, jaw dropping at the uncharacteristically soft tone that her girlfriend was using. 

When leaning over to see if the other was actually awake, she was greeted with a sight that made her heart skip in her chest. 

Kiyoomi's cheeks were slightly pink, teeth barely showing in a lazy grin, her eyes still closed. 

_God she’s an angel. She’s an angel and_ _I'm_ _in heaven. This cannot be real. Her skin is so smooth and her hair smells so nice- she’s making me go soft, damn it! Get a hold of yerself Atsumu! Ya can’t feel like this just ‘cause she smiles sometimes, fucksake-_

“Feels nice.” 

_Oh, jesus._

Kiyoomi had her hands wrist-deep in Atsumu’s chest, rooting around for her heart, depositing butterflies in her stomach and stealing the air from her lungs in the process. 

Hesitating slightly, Atsumu sunk her fingers back into Kiyoomi’s hair - gently scratching at her scalp this time. Seeming to relax even further into the bed, Kiyoomi let out a sigh of contentment. She rolled onto her back, finally opening her eyes to look up at Atsumu. 

“Hey.” Atsumu whispered, pushing away the dark curls that had been plastered to Kiyoomi’s face by the pillow. She let her hand rest just above her lover’s forehead. 

“Why’re you awake?” Her voice was still thick from sleep.

“Couldn’t sleep.” 

“Jitters?”

(It was commonplace for Atsumu to be slightly shaky in the evenings and after practice, and over the past few months Kiyoomi had come to understand that. The day after a long night she would leave the blonde to lay in, often preparing them both breakfast or, occasionally, staying under the covers by her side. 

Despite her dedication to her usual morning routine, Kiyoomi found herself enjoying those lay ins a considerable amount.)

“Yeah.” Atsumu hadn’t stopped smoothing back her curls.

Kiyoomi paused for a moment, staring at her lover and meeting a cocked head in return.

“D’you wanna plait my hair?” The words tripped over Kiyoomi’s tongue - it took the blond a _lot_ of physical restraint not to outwardly coo at the way she spoke.

“You sure, lovely? Ya didn’t want Sho to plait it a couple weeks ago.”

It had been mid practice when Kiyoomi had snapped; she had forgotten to bring her usual hairnet that day, and the feeling of hair getting stuck to the sweat on her skin was driving her crazy. She had made a point of saying it every few minutes, muttering and cursing under her breath. Atsumu swore she heard her girlfriend threatening to shave her own head at one point.

Hinata had bounded over, offering to tie her hair into plaits. She claimed she had gotten really quick at tying them during her trip to Brazil, back when she still had long hair. Kiyoomi had grimaced at the question, politely - _as politely as she could with the look of disapproval on her face_ \- turning down the offer, tying it into a tight bun at the top of her head instead.

This had only served to give the dark haired girl a headache, hence why she usually stuck to low tied hairstyles. The pounding in her head had caused her to crash as soon as she got home - sleeping all through the evening after practice, completely messing up her sleep schedule. It was a rough couple of days, for her.

Atsumu had started carrying a spare hairnet in her bag ever since.

“‘s okay if it’s _you_ , idiot.” Kiyoomi said, pulling the blonde out of her thoughts.

Familiar heat made its way back to Atsumu’s cheeks, sweat starting to gather at the base of her back.

 _Stop blushing you bastard_ , warring with herself now that her brain was (almost) up and running again, _you’ve been dating for months now! Why are ya so surprised?_

“Okay, if you’re sure ya want me to.” Atsumu replied, a question in her voice.

But Kiyoomi’s eyes were already shut again.

Letting out a breath that she hadn’t even noticed she was holding, Atsumu sat there for a moment, processing the sickly sweet back and forth she'd just experienced. Just to give her mind, and heart, a rest - she began thinking about how she was going to go about doing her girlfriend's hair.

Growing up with a twin with equally as long hair in their youth meant that the Miyas were both well versed in plaiting. 

They’d spent hours taking turns playing with each others’ dark brown locks when their parents dragged them out to dinners or family events. They learned all kinds of convoluted plaiting styles for their own hair type, some of them looking downright distressing; skeleton plaits continued to haunt Atsumu well into adulthood. 

It had even continued in high school, as they mindlessly twisted their slightly frazzled, bleached ends before practice.

However, both of them having cut their hair into different, _extremely short_ styles, after finishing education left Atsumu with an itch in her fingers. 

Aside from Inunaki and Kiyoomi, all of her other immediate friends and fellow professionals had short cut hair - it was much easier to manage during practice and official games, a fact acknowledged by the majority of the women’s volleyball league. 

Once, Atsumu had managed to convince Inunaki to let her practice plaiting her hair under the guise of strengthening her hands ( _it’s so that my sets are more precise, okay!_ ). Much to her dismay, the libero had pulled out the small, twin plaits that framed her face as soon as practice had finished.

Atsumu would be lying if she said she hadn’t fantasized about tying her girlfriend up and taming her endless array of curls into neat french braids over and over until her hands hurt. 

However, Kiyoomi always seemed to wear a look of utter disdain when Bokuto would bounce over and ruffle her hair, leaving cowlicks standing where it had been neatly brushed back into a low bun (hairnet and all). So she had always kept her distance, not wanting to unknowingly stomp on any of her partner’s boundaries.

The plaiting incident with Hinata had only reinforced Atsumu’s apprehension.

 _Have I seriously been depriving myself of romantic hair plaiting sessions because I couldn’t differentiate how Omi would react to me, her literal girlfriend, versus the team touching her_? 

Atsumu could’ve screamed, right there. She pulled herself together for Sakusa’s sake.

 _Whatever_ , she thought begrudgingly, _now that I know that Omi thinks it feels nice when I play with her hair, I'll do it whenever I can._

Gently rolling Kiyoomi back onto her side, gathering her hair from underneath her head and making sure the other was comfortable, Atsumu got to work.

In a daze, Atsumu wove Kiyoomi’s hair into two twin french plaits - keeping it simple so that they would be easy to untangle if her girlfriend woke up in the morning hating it. 

Having finished plaiting, she allowed herself to lay there for a minute - propped up by her elbow on the pillow. 

She couldn’t get the soft look on Omi’s face out of her head; as if it were a video on loop and she was the poor bastard who couldn’t stop pressing the rewind button.

It got to the point where she was getting embarrassed by her own reaction to it, heart pounding and cheeks stubbornly warm. 

Almost twenty five years old and still having reactions like _this_ to the girl she liked? How lame. ‘Samu would be having a field day if she saw her sister like this; acting like some kind of infatuated teenager. 

At this point, Atsumu wouldn’t be surprised if a thick, gooey substance oozed from her pores. Love really _was_ just pulling her apart by the seams. 

She froze at the sticky metaphor that she had cooked up in her head.

_Love._

Clarity had her leaning over again, looking down at the woman next to her; hair finally contained and framing her face. 

Kiyoomi’s eyebrows scrunched, pouting and moving her lips slightly as she often did when she dreamed. At that moment, she rolled over ever so slowly, reaching out with a limp wrist. Her twitching fingers rested on Atsumu’s waist.

The way she gently squeezed drew a small sound of surprise from the back of Atsumu’s throat, her blush reddening even further when she registered what she had done.

_Yer killin’ me here, Omi._

Careful not to disturb her further, Atsumu laid herself down properly - coming face to face with the woman she had grown to respect and adore over the previous months.

Reaching out with calloused hands, slightly shaking, she tentatively rested her hand on her girlfriend’s upper arm, trading a soft squeeze of her own. She ran her thumb over the pale skin beneath, feeling the hard-earned muscles under her palm.

Atsumu thought of Kiyoomi on the court, the fire mixed with something akin to awe in her eyes as she looked at her following a flawless set. 

She thought back to the first time she met her, _Omi was all legs back then_ , towering over the other girls at their first shared Japan Youth training camp. The first set to the dark haired girl went spinning off the opponent at a _disgusting_ angle, leaving Atsumu slightly breathless. It was then that she finally realised that maybe volleyball without Osamu wouldn't be dull, after all.

She thought about her initial shock that Kiyoomi had grown out her hair before joining the Black Jackals. She was so used to the short curls that had once sat tucked neatly behind her ears, now trailing across her shoulders and outlining - _presenting_ \- the muscle definition in her shoulders. 

_(Huh_ , Atsumu had thought - registering the new array of feelings stirring inside of her, _that’s new.)_

She thought of the blush poorly hidden by a black facemask when Omi had pulled Atsumu aside after practice one evening, inviting her to go for a meal at the fancy restaurant down the street - 

_“Ya already reserved a table knowin’ I would say yes? Pretty presumptuous of you, Omi.”_

_“...”_

_“Hey! Wait! Don't just walk away!”_

She thought of the way her girlfriend’s clothes had begun taking up space in Atsumu’s wardrobe, her toothbrush and hair products nestled in the cupboard under the sink, sitting there like a promise that she’d still be there the following morning, and many more to come. 

She thought of every knowing glance, every mocking sentence, every purse of her lover’s lips. She thought of every stolen kiss, every argument. The silent agreements and earth shattering disagreements, none of which could tear them apart.

She thought of evenings together, sometimes watching reruns of their games, sometimes watching nothing at all, pinching and prodding at each other when they wanted to talk but didn’t have the words. 

She thought of the way they just worked, two far-from-agreeable personalities steadily merging into one; not quite completing one another, but filling a void that neither had known they had.

That night at witching hour, the moon as her only witness, Atsumu thought about every little thing that made up the woman beside her. 

She considered all the possible things she had yet to discover, and failed to find a single one that would make her love ( _love_ ) her girlfriend any less. 

Despite it all, Atsumu found herself lacking any form of regret at the realisation she was _already_ trading pieces of her soul with another, no matter if the idea terrified her or not.

 _But then again,_ she thought, brushing her fingers along the twin plaits trailing down her lover’s back, _who better to take care of my fragile, overbearing heart, than Sakusa Kiyoomi?_

Sleep came easy that night.

**Author's Note:**

> bonus:  
>  _From then on, Kiyoomi would wake up most mornings and smile to herself at the twin plaits that always seem to end up in her hair; the carefully woven strands something akin to a confession. ___  
>   
> \-- the ending is a reference to the final line of _'Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe' _, cause its my favourite book and im a sucker for it.__  
>  _  
>  _also, Atsumu having 'jitters' is just a reflection of my own experience and either anxiety or adhd is the cause of it, so read into that what you will ;)_  
> _  
>  I hope you enjoyed your time with me and my sapphic yearning, thank you so much for reading!!!  
> \- come hang out with me on twitter @cowgirlhabit >:)


End file.
